


Take My Hand

by AftertheFall (you_took_everything)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tarzan Fusion, M/M, Peggy is the Jane Goodall of my soul, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-28 01:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_took_everything/pseuds/AftertheFall
Summary: Bucky’s little beating heart carried him.And he grows.Until his heart is no longer little, but big and strong, like he is.He teaches himself to fly through the trees, like the bright yellow birds that dart through the canopy. To skate and slide like the big green snakes through the branches. He makes himself a claw, to help him cut and fight like Sabor herself.He grows.





	1. In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Tarzan AU

Deep in the jungle a mother gorilla mourned the loss of her child. 

Fury had been less than comforting after. Although he was the head of the family, he had not been her mate.

Afterwards, he had turned all of his energy to becoming ever more vigilant against any more attacks by the leopard called Sabor. 

She understood he needed to be strong for the rest of the family. So she shouldered the burden of mourning alone. 

It had been weeks since. 

She felt listless, staring unseeingly out into the tangled snarl of the jungle around her, when she heard a cry. 

A helpless sort of cry. It was the sort of cry her child had made befo--. No. She would not dwell on that now. 

She heard it again. 

A tiny sound almost swallowed in the cacophony of the jungle.

She followed the sound. 

She found a tree that was not a tree. There was something covering, consuming the tree, like the creeper vines that made the jungle canopy, but not. 

The sound was coming from inside. 

She made her way, cautiously, and there, in a small nest, under a leaflike cover.... A-- 

Well, she didn’t really know what it was. 

It was not like herself. 

It was pink, and smooth, and had large blue eyes that peered at her with open curiosity; curiosity she knew was reflected in her own eyes. 

It was so small. 

It was a child, she reasoned. Nothing could be so helpless and not be young.

But where were its parents? 

She looked around and spotted red. Her nostrils flared. Now that she was no longer distracted by the noise of the child she had discovered, she noticed the bodies. Spooked, she grabbed the small being to her chest. 

There was only one creature who made red this way.

Red on the earth, red to eat. 

Sabor. 

There was a movement in the corner of her eye. 

The flicking of a tail.

She turned, baby clasped tight against her breast, and fled. 

By the time she had made it back to family, to the nests, she had almost gotten the wild beating of her heart under control. 

She had evaded Sabor. 

She clutched the child triumphantly against her. 

He was so small, or perhaps weak? That he could not even cling to her back, as even the littlest of gorillas could do. 

A group of the others met her as she entered their camp. Her absence had been noticed. 

A curious little gorilla by the name of Nat, came close and peered wide-eyed at what Kala carried. 

Fury was not far behind. 

“Kala, what is it?” He asked gruffly, distrust already seeping into his tone. 

“That’s freaky lookin’ is what it is.” Said Nat, poking a bit at the huddled form. The child woke, at the prodding. Sleepy, but curious blue eyes came into view. 

“It’s a baby. I’m going to be his mother now.” She replied. 

Fury sighed heavily.

“Kala, you know it won’t replace the one you lost.” 

“Aww, it’s not so bad once you get used to it.” Nat said, as the child bit playfully at her fingers. 

Fury gave another put upon sigh. 

Kala knew she had won. 

“It can stay.” Fury conceded grudgingly. It looked harmless enough. 

“What are you gonna call it?” asked Nat. 

“I’m going to call _him_ Bucky.” 

Nat looked skeptical. 

“Bucky? Oookay, he’s your baby.” She said, implying heavily with her tone that she thought Kala was perhaps more than a little crazy. 

Nat went to rejoin her mother, and the other gorillas soon became bored, and left to begin building their nests for the night. 

“Fury, I know he’ll be a good gorilla.”

“I said he could stay. That doesn’t make him one of us.” 

Kala watched, weary, as he turned and disappeared into the jungle, to watch over them for the night. 

The little creature in her arms gave a hiccuping cough, and began to cry.

“Shh, no, don’t cry, little one. I’m here. Don’t cry.” She began to hum, then to sing, " _Come stop your crying it will be all right, come take my hand, hold it tight, I will protect you from all around you, I will protect you, don’t you cry_ …. “

_____________________________

 

Bucky crept on small silent feet, through the shadows of the palms and vines.

He made no sound as he drew closer… to his prey.

Her back was turned, and she did not hear him approach. 

Unsuspecting.

He pounced! 

He yelled a wild animal cry, and his mother jumped almost through the canopy high above them in fright. 

He giggled as she turned to him. 

Kala rolled her eyes to the heavens above as if pleading for respite. 

“I scared you good didn’t I, mom?” 

“You sure, did.” She said, flatly, obviously already tired of his shenanigans. 

“Did you like my yell? I can make all kinds of sounds, do you want to hear me do a leopard?” He asked, eagerly.

Kala gave an exasperated sigh. 

“Why don’t you make your own sound?”

Bucky thought this was a very good idea. 

He spun off and away into the forest trying various honks and squeaks, and cries out as he went, and almost immediately bumped right into Fury. 

“Oops.” He stuttered.

Fury always made him very nervous. He could tell that Fury didn’t like him, but he couldn’t remember having done anything ever to make him mad. 

Fury was staring down at him with a look that meant Trouble. 

“Bucky, oh thank heavens you’re all right! Kala and I have been looking everywhere for you we thought we’d lost you,” Nat cried rushing to his aid. Like a whirlwind she threw herself at Bucky dramatically and began to tug him away. “We were so worried. Oh Fury, thank you for finding him! You are such a wise and caring leader,” and with that she practically scooped him up and carried him away on her shoulder. 

“Um. Thank you?” Bucky said, after they had made it a safe distance away.

“I’m starting to think your head might be as soft as the rest of your body.” 

Hey!

“How many times do I have to tell you, if you want Fury to like you, stay out of his way!” 

Okay, she maybe had a point there, Bucky conceded to himself. 

“Hey, Nat, come on!” A couple of the other, younger gorillas called, “Last one to the waterfall, is a dung beetle!” 

“Yea and the first one there’s got to eat it!” She called after their retreating forms.

“Hey, Nat, can I come?” 

Bucky liked Nat. She joked with him every once in awhile. No one else ever really did that. 

“Well, I mean, you can… if you can keep up.” There was a gleam in her eye as she said it, and a little smile beginning at the corner of her mouth that spelled mischief. 

“You’re on.” 

They tumbled and tore through the jungle, giggling as they went. Nat won of course, but it was actually pretty close if Bucky said so himself. 

“Oh come on, Nat. Why’d you bring the hairless wonder?” One of the other gorillas complained, as Nat and Bucky burst, breathless, Bucky, and Nat, not having broken a sweat, into the clearing where the others were waiting. 

One of the older gorillas considered Bucky with a childish cruelty. 

“Oh, you want to hang out with us, Bucky?” He sneered. 

“You know, I’m actually kind of tired, are you kind of tired, Bucky. Maybe we should head back, you head back first, I’ll head back right behind--.” Nat said hastily, sensing trouble. 

“Yea, I do, so?” Bucky said, rising immediately to the obvious goading. 

Nat’s palm hit her forehead. 

“Well, if you want to hang out with us, you have to prove yourself.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You have to get an elephant hair.” 

They all looked down below, where the elephants were taking their daily bath; the entire herd, almost thirty elephants, were swimming, gigantic, with their sharp tusks and legs like tree trunks. As the group watched, two of the elephants started to fight, giant bodies clashing ferociously, their angry trumpeting cries could be heard even from all the way up, where they stood. 

“Come on, Bucky. It’s stupid. You don’t need to hang out with these idiots. You don’t need to prove yourself! I’ll probably leave myself. Just head home, and I’ll catch up with yo-- BUCKY NO.” Nat cried, as Bucky threw himself over the ledge and fell down down down down PLONK, directly into the pool, close to the elephants. 

Everyone winced. 

“Look! There he is!” One of the gorillas pointed to where Bucky had resurfaced.

“Oh good he’s alive.” Nat said, in a sort of stunned monotone.

She was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have grumpy Kerchak/Fury. So Kala and Fury /are not and never were/ mated. Kala just had another random gorilla mate, who faded into obscurity as soon as gorilla bab died.


	2. (Never Be) One of Us

“Mooooooooooom. Are you sure this water’s sanitary? It looks questionable to me.” Clint asked, sticking just the tip of his toes in the water as a preliminary test. 

“It’s fine, Clint.” His mother said, barely turning to look. 

“Yeeech, but what about the bacteria?” He pleaded. On second thought, that actually sounded kind of cool. 

“I’m talking, Clint. Can’t you see mommy’s talking?” 

Just as Clint was wiggling at the edge of the pool, getting very close to actually jumping in, something caught his eye. 

Something was swimming towards his mother and the other elephants. 

A piranha! 

He had never actually seen a piranha, but he was absolutely certain that’s what it was. 

“Hey watch out! There’s something swimming towards you! It’s definitely a piranha.”

“Honey, there are no piranhas in Africa.” His mother replied, in a bored tone.

“It’s almost there. It’s right BEHIND YOU. A PIRANHA. LOOK OUT!” 

“Ow. My butt!” One of the other elephants cried. 

Bucky fell into the water, clutching the hair he’d managed to pluck. 

Bedlam ensued. 

The elephant whose tail Bucky had plucked the hair from jumped, bumping into the elephant next to him, who startled and thrashed, sending all the other elephants into a tizzy.

And that’s when Bucky broke the surface, gasping for air. 

“PIRANHA!” All the elephants shrieked, getting quite an eyeful of shiny white teeth. 

Under water again, Bucky barely missed being hit and trampled as the elephants began to stampede. 

The hysteria carried the elephants all the way to the gorilla’s feeding ground.

Fury swooped in and saved a small baby gorilla who had been separated from its mother in the chaos, and who had almost been crushed by the frightened herd. 

He returned the baby to its mother and went to investigate what had set the elephants off.

As he neared the watering hole, some of the juvenile gorillas rushed past him shouting, “It wasn’t us! It was them! It wasn’t our fault.”

Fury had a bad feeling about this.

_____________________________

 

At the edge of the watering hole, Nat was cradling a limp figure. 

“Bucky, you idiot! Don’t die on me, Bucky. Come on.” She said, slapping and shaking Bucky in an attempt to revive him.

“Cool piranha fact: did you know a piranha can strip your flesh in seconds?” Clint said, unhelpfully. 

“What are you talking about? He’s not a piranha. He’s--” 

Bucky began to cough.

“He’s alive! HE’S ALIVE!” Nat shouted, giddy, and dropping all pretense that she was above caring. “He’s alive, he’s-- I’m going to kill you.” The relief had been short-lived and now incredulous anger had taken it’s place. “You gave me a heart attack.” 

“Uh huh.” Bucky said weakly, holding out the long, shining, hair he still had clutched victoriously in his fist. 

“You got the-- you got the hair!” Nat exclaimed.

“Is that what this is all about?” Clint asked. “Why didn’t you just say something? I’ve got a whole tail full of them.” He said, tickling the other two with it, making them giggle. 

“Bucky! Nat!” 

“Uh Oh.” Nat managed, before both their mothers were grabbing them up into strong hugs. 

“You scared us.” Kala said, clutching Bucky close.

“What happened?” 

“Well…” Bucky began, he wasn’t very good at thinking on his feet. 

Luckily, Nat was. 

“Well you see, Aunty Kala, it’s sort of a long story, you see it’s involved, and what happened is, it was weird because--.” 

Or at least she was better at stalling than Bucky was. 

“What happened.”

Uh oh. Fury.

Nat’s hedging sort of dwindled off.

“It’s my fault, Fury.” 

“Bucky!” Kala gasped.

“We were playing and well, I’m sorry, Fury.” Bucky said, head bowed, realizing how inadequate it sounded even to his own ears. 

“You almost killed someone!” 

“But it was an accident! I’m sorry.” Bucky said again.

“He’s just a child, Fury.” Kala interceded.

“That’s not an excuse, Kala. Stop defending him.” 

“He’ll learn, Fury.”

“He’ll never learn. You can’t learn to be one of us.” 

“Because you never give him a chance!” 

“He will never be one of us.” 

Bucky ran. 

He could hear his mother calling his name, but he ignored her and ran deeper into the jungle. His eyes were hot and wet and his throat felt constricted. He ran half blind, tearing through the jungle until he reached the small pool he and Nat sometimes swam in when the watering hole was too crowded. 

Why did Fury hate him so much? 

He peered into the still water, at his own reflection peering back. 

He didn’t look like the other gorillas. 

He looked, different. 

Wrong. 

He hated how he couldn’t climb right. How he couldn’t keep up with the other gorillas. He still needed his mother’s help getting food, unlike Nat or the other gorillas his age. He hated how he looked. 

He looked wrong. 

In a fit of pique he lashed out at his reflection, sending water and mud flying into his face and hair. 

Impulsively he began to coat himself in it. He grabbed handfuls of mud and began to smear it over his body, trying to cover his wrongness. 

He looked back at his reflection, and now he looked, well, less pink, if anything. He thought it might be a start.

“Bucky, what are you doing?”

Bucky whipped around at the sound of his mother’s voice, feeling slightly embarrassed, then feeling defensive for feeling embarrassed.

“Why am I so different.” He accused. 

“Because you’re covered in mud, that’s why.” His mother said, playfully, attempting to rub some of it off. 

“No, Fury said I didn’t belong in the family. With everyone. With you.” Bucky said, not willing to be distracted, as Kala continued to attempt to clean him up. 

“Don’t listen to what Fury said. Now close your mouth.” 

“But look at me!” Bucky said, struggling out of his mother’s grip, angry with her, with himself, with Fury. 

“I am, Bucky. Do you know what I see?” She reached out and swiped gently at his face, clearing more of the mud away. “I see two eyes, like mine, and a nose somewhere….” She unearthed his nose with another gentle swipe. “Ah, there, and two ears.” She said, tickling them. Bucky wiggled them, making Kala smile. “What else?”

“Two hands.” Bucky said, eagerly, resting them in his mother’s. They both stared for a moment. Two hands yes, but the difference between the two sets of hands was alarming. 

Kala decided to try a different approach. 

“Okay, Bucky,” Kala said, gathering him close in her arms. “Close your eyes, forget what you see. What do you feel?” She said, placing Bucky’s hands on his chest. 

“My heart.” Bucky said, sounding a little awed. 

“That’s right, now come here.” 

He rested his beautiful little head on her chest. 

“Your heart.” 

He grinned up at her, his face so small and wondering. 

“See, they’re exactly the same. Fury just doesn’t understand.”

“I’ll make him understand.” Bucky exclaimed, his heart beating with so much conviction, “I’m gonna be the best ape ever!” 

_____________________________

 

Bucky’s little beating heart carried him.

His conviction kept him going. 

He learned to climb, and eats his weight in fruit and bugs, and practices jumping, and learns to swing, and grows, and swims, and copies, and learns, and runs, and grows, and observes, and he hopes and hopes that it’s _enough_. 

That _he_ will be enough one day. 

And he grows. 

Until his heart is no longer little, but big and strong, like he is.

He teaches himself to fly through the trees, like the bright yellow birds that dart through the canopy. To skate and slide like the big green snakes through the branches. He makes himself a claw, to help him cut and fight like Sabor herself. 

He grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter in the "present". Bucky's gorilla(child)hood is over, que Disney growing up montage.


	3. Sabor

1913, Somewhere Deep in the Jungles of West Africa

_____________________________

Bucky creeps on silent feet, through the branches and vines.

He makes no sound as he draws closer.

His prey has her back turned.

Unsuspecting.

He pounces!

Or, at least he tries.

“Don’t even think about it.” His mother says, completely nonchalant in the face of his attack. Well, in the back of his attack. Her face is turned away from him.

“How’d you know it was me?” Bucky asks, confused. 

“I’m your mother, I know everything. Now where have you been?” 

“I thought you knew everything.” He sasses, right before he is tackled to the ground by a streak of brown fur. 

“Hey, Aunty K. You’re looking remarkably well-groomed today.” Nat says genially, as she cuts off Bucky’s airflow.

“Hello, Nat.” Kala monotones. 

They roll. 

Until Bucky is the one with a good hold on Nat. Then they roll again. They continue to grapple, then bump right into Clint as they break through the underbrush into a clearing where he is grazing. 

“My money’s on Nat!” He yells, as they roll away again. 

Bucky is slowly but steadily gaining the upper hand. Finally he gets a good hold on Nat, not exerting enough pressure to cut off her air supply, but enough so that she knows that he could. 

She struggles for a minute, unable to break his grip. 

“Okay, okay, you win…. Okay.. you win, hello!” She shouts, still scrabbling at his arms. 

Bucky is distracted. He is listening, he thought he’d heard… but no….

“Hello! Hey! Let me go!” 

“Oh, sorry, Nat!” Bucky says, hastily releasing her. 

“What kind of animal are you?” Nat teases, though she is still rubbing her neck where he’d held her. 

There was that sound again. Bucky tilts his head. He thought he’d heard….

“You know, about that, I’ve been thinking that Bucky might be some kind of subspecies of elephant.” Clint says.

“An elephant?” Nat says, the “you’re crazy” heavily implied in her tone. 

Bucky tries to drown out Nat and Clint’s chatter. 

“Listen to me, think about it. He likes a good peanut, I like a good peanut,” Clint argues.

“He looks nothing like you!” 

It was probably nothing, Bucky concedes, turning back to Clint and Nat. 

Sabor is on them in a second.

In a frenzy of motion, Bucky dodges Sabor’s first swipe. 

Nat and Clint scatter. 

Bucky quickly climbs up a tree to try and get away. Sabor starts up after him, but is grabbed suddenly from behind by Fury. 

Fury and Sabor fight, nothing like how Bucky and Nat had been fighting moments before. 

Fury and Sabor fight to kill. 

Sabor strikes at Fury’s face. 

There is red on the ground, from Sabor’s claws. 

Bucky goes quickly and finds his own claw.

Fury falls, exhausted and injured. 

Sabor circles him. Then, just when she goes in for the kill, Bucky jumps, yelling his Bucky-cry, and kicks Sabor away from Fury. 

They circle each other. 

Sabor and Bucky.

The other gorillas watch with horror, shrieking and shouting their support.

Sabor attacks, lightning quick.

Bucky loses his claw.

He hides quickly in the roots of the mighty Kapok tree, the many creeper vines providing cover only for a moment before Sabor is attacking again, relentlessly.

Bucky sees his claw shining on the jungle floor. 

He jams a rock into Sabor’s paw, wedging it so that she is trapped while he runs to grab his weapon. 

She escapes his simple trap and is once again upon him. 

He barely reaches his claw and turns before she attacks. 

They fall together. 

Bucky knows he has won. 

Sabor is still above him, the life has gone from her powerful body.

His claw rests in her breast. 

There is red on the ground, and on Bucky.

The jungle is strangely silent as he climbs out from where they had fallen, pushing Sabor’s body out before him. 

As he peeks his head out, a cry arises. 

_He did it_.

He lifts the body of Sabor over his head and yells his Bucky-cry in triumph, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

The other gorillas shout and cry, this time in happiness, and crowd around Bucky.

Bucky hears Clint trumpeting in celebration.

“Okay, everybody, move aside, out of my way, best FRIEND coming through. That would be me.” Nat pushes her way through the crowd. “You.” Nat says, looking Bucky directly in the eyes, “Don’t make a habit of that, okay? There are other ways of getting attention you know?” She is teasing, but Bucky can see the relief in her eyes, how much she really cares, despite her joking.

“I’ll try to remember that,” He replies, dryly, but he gives her a big hug nonetheless, which she pretends like she hates out of principle. 

“Bucky, I just want you to know that I was right behind you the whole time,” Clint says. 

“Oh yea, if by ‘right behind you’ you mean cowering behind that plant over there, then sure.”

“Naaaaaat.” Clint whines. 

Bucky sees Fury leaving the clearing.

He knows what is right, what he needs to do. 

He takes Sabor’s body and lays it at Fury’s feet. 

Bucky looks at Fury. 

Their eyes meet, one of Fury’s eyes now sightless from Sabor’s claws.

He hopes the gesture is taken in the way it is meant. 

An offering. 

Peace. 

They look at each other, and Bucky thinks, finally, that they have reached an understanding, there is something almost like respe--. 

A scream cuts through the jungle. 

“What was that?” Bucky asks, head tipping to the side in consideration. It is a sound that Bucky has never heard before. 

“Hey, it wasn’t me, I swear!” Clint says, hastily, then, “Okay, maybe it was….”

What animal made that cry?

Fury is already leading the gorillas in the opposite direction, determined not to find out. 

The peace-like spell between them is broken. 

Bucky does not have time to despair. 

He falls back from the rest of the group, his curiosity getting the better of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Peggy in the next chapter!


	4. A Proposal

Before Steve’s mother had died, she’d made Steve swear to her that he would go to London, knowing full well that he would never do so while she still had breath in her body. 

He had given her his word. 

After she had died, Steve had used his last paycheck from Calhoun’s Grocer to make arrangements for a small, but beautiful little funeral. He bought as many violets, his mother’s favorite, as he could afford, and laid them on her grave. 

Then he sold the modest furniture in their modest apartment and a few of his drawings, and bought a ticket for London for the very next week. 

Over the course of the past few years Steve had been in contact with a Dr. Erskine. 

Dr. Erskine was a professor at the University of London, and a forerunner in medical science. 

They had exchanged letters regularly, and Steve had been persuaded by the good doctor to go to London to receive some new experimental medical procedures for his heart and lungs.

Almost as soon as Steve had stepped off the boat Dr. Erskine had put him on a strict and comprehensive regimen of drugs, and something he was tentatively calling “steroids”, that had done wonders for Steve’s health. 

Erskine had also paired him up with Peggy Carter, his protege, when Steve’s medical bills had begun piling up, and he needed the work. 

Steve had never been one to accept charity and he wasn’t about to start now.

Steve knew he was a good artist; Peggy would argue that he was a great artist and that anything said otherwise was just too much modesty on his part. 

Whatever the case, he was thorough and precise, and he began to do all of the scientific illustration for Peggy’s research, and a little for Dr. Erskine too.

Steve was eternally grateful. 

The job gave him the money he needed for his treatments and medications, and made him feel useful and contributive. 

He owed Peggy and Erskine a lot, although they never made him feel it. 

He loved them dearly. They were the closest thing he had to a family since his mother had died. 

After a little over a year of his being in London, Peggy came to him with a proposition. 

Her beautiful face had glowed with barely contained excitement as she told him about the grant.

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, Steve! We’ll be able to observe the gorillas in their natural habitat. Can you imagine? Think of what we might be able to discover!” 

He already knew the answer to anything she asked of him would unequivocally be, “yes”. 

“The University is funding everything. I’m going to wring so much equipment out of those stuffed shirts on the board, all under Erskine's name of course.” Her face was delightfully wicked.

He was going to say “yes” to anything she asked of him, but he let her gush a little longer; her enthusiasm was contagious. 

“Erskine says he’s too old to go gallivanting off into the unknown searching for the future anymore. His words, not mine. He wants me to go in his place, but you-- Oh, Steve, do say you’ll come with me. I couldn’t do it without you.” 

They both knew that was probably a lie. 

Peggy Carter could do just about anything she set her brilliant mind to, but Steve was flattered all the same. 

“We’ll need to obtain the proper papers and the tickets, we’ll get engaged of course, that will help everything run more smoothly, and then there’s the matter of the equipment we--.” 

“Peggy Carter, are you proposing to me right now?”

Peggy Carter did not blush, but the way she lifted her head and the set of her jaw said she might just be fighting it off. 

“Oh Steve, stop it! It’s only sensible.” 

Sensible. 

“You know that my research will always come first and foremost for me, and we make a wonderful team, professionally.” 

There it was. The truth of it. 

Peggy was married to her work.

And Steve loved Peggy, but he wasn’t _in_ love with her. 

She was his best friend, and he would do just about anything to make her happy, but he wasn’t in love with her. 

Peggy had a point though. 

Being engaged would make it easier for them to obtain the necessary travel documents, and it would stop all of those insidious whispers about Peggy behind her back about, “unattached” and “loose” young women traveling to unknown parts alone with strange men.

Not that Peggy had ever given any thought to what society considered “proper,” but still. 

Steve was also not one to shy away from adventure. In the end, Steve thought that might be one of the many reasons why he and Peggy got along so well. 

So, sensibly, they get engaged. 

Dr. Erskine, with a twinkle in his eye that said he knew something they didn’t, was delighted and gave them his blessing. 

He also hired a Mr. Rumlow to accompany them for protection, because he's a good man, and he worries about both them too much. 

All in all, it takes them about a month to get everything in order. 

They say their goodbyes on the dock as Mr. Rumlow is making final arrangements with the captain and the crew. 

Peggy and Dr. Erskine hug.

Erskine pulls back a little and kisses Peggy on her forehead. Then pulls farther back and places both his hands on her shoulders to look her dead in the eyes. 

“You will be amazing.”

Peggy may sniffle a little, but Steve can’t confirm because he is very determinedly looking in the opposite direction. 

“I am already so _very_ proud of you.” 

They hug again. 

Neither of their eyes are particularly dry after that. 

Erskine turns to Steve and grasps his hand, then pulls him into a brief but strong hug. 

“I know your mother would be as proud of you as I am now, Steven.”

Steve's eyes feel a little watery as well.

Allergies, probably. 

The crew loads the rest of the cargo, and soon they are pulling away from the dock. 

They lean over the side of the railing waving back at Erskine, until they can no longer make out his figure in the distance. 

Then they both turn and face each other.

The promise of adventure is in the air.

They cannot contain the excited energy that sits restless under their skin and threatens to bloom forth into joyous, uncontrolled laughter.

So they don't even try. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Erskine's not _that_ old. I just think he makes a really great older, twinkly-eyed, wise, father-figure character, that's all. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Like the Sun

Through the shadows and branches Bucky follows the echo of the scream. 

He finds the trail where the underbrush has been trampled and cut away, as if a giant beast has recently moved through the jungle.

There is a strange scent in the air, and tracks on the ground that Bucky has never seen before.

He follows the trail, and hears movement very close to him. 

Bucky sees something flash on the jungle floor, like a fish glinting in water. 

He picks it up and sniffs. 

What is this sharp sunlight thing? 

He licks it and recoils from the bitter unknown taste in his mouth. 

The movement is very close to him now, distracting him from the strange object. He drops it, and settles back into the foliage to wait. 

Something comes into view. 

An animal, a--. 

A something like-- a something like _him_.

He watches, fascinated, as the creature walks closer. 

Not like him, like him, but on two legs. 

It’s pink like him, and hairless like him, but this creature like him reminds him of Fury, standing tall and proud. 

Strong.

Another scream cuts through the air. 

The bushes and plants just to the left of Bucky shatter almost simultaneously. 

“Brock? Brock, what is it? Have you seen something?” 

Another one like Bucky comes out from the thicket. 

Pink, and smooth; this one reminds him of Nat, with dark eyes like his mother. 

“Are we in danger?” 

“I thought I saw something….” 

The tall strong one looks suspiciously around them. 

“Peggy? Peggy, what’s going on?” 

There is another creature in the bushes. 

A third creature, like Bucky, comes into the clearing, stumbling a bit as he does. 

This was one like him, but--. 

He does not remind Bucky of any of the others that he knows. 

He does not remind him of Fury, or Nat, or his mother, or any of the other gorillas. 

He is just... like nothing Bucky has ever seen before. 

He is small. Smaller than the two others, and certainly smaller than Bucky himself. His face is flushed a pretty pink. His clear blue eyes are shaded by lashes that are lush like date palm leaves.

Bucky can't take his eyes off him. 

The creature that is not gorilla, something like-Bucky-but-not, moves to meet with the others. 

His hair a soft yellow color, like the big yellow moths that almost glow in the night, like the sweet flowers that Nat loves most to eat, like sunlight, Bucky thinks in wonder, transfixed. 

“Uh, Mr. Rumlow, excuse me, you see, Peggy and I came on this expedition to study gorillas, and I think that your shooting might be scaring them off.” 

“You hired me to protect you, and protect you I will.”

“And you’re doing a great job.” Now the Bucky-like-creature with hair like the sun reminds him of Nat. Something about his body language and the sounds reminds him of Nat when she was teasing Clint and Bucky, like they just don't get the joke. “But you see, we only have a short amount of time before the ship comes back for us and--.” 

“Oh, Steve, look!” 

The Nat-like-one seems excited by something. 

She begins to point all around them to clusters of leaves and earth tamped down in the small nest-like areas Bucky and his family use for sleeping. 

Bucky remembers that his family has been through here not too long ago, but had moved to get closer to the ant colonies for food. The not-like-him-but-like-him seem very excited about the little nests for some reason Bucky can’t fathom. 

“And over there!” 

The sun-like-one seems to catch on to what has the Nat-like-one in such a frenzy. 

They spend several breathless moments pointing out all of the little sleep-spaces to each other, growing more excited by the second, until they collapse together, embracing. 

“Steve, do you know what this means?” The Nat-like-one is giddy. 

“Family groups!” They let out a joyous sounding cry together, then clutch each other all the tighter seemingly overwhelmed. 

The Fury-like-one stands away from the two of them, and regards their effusive display with an air of lazy annoyance. 

The one with the sun-hair turns to the Fury-like-one, face open and bright, and flushed with happiness.

Bucky’s heart picks up tempo. 

He could not have looked away from the sun-like-one’s face at that moment even if he had had Sabor breathing down his neck. 

“Brock, Peggy has this brilliant theory that the gorillas are social creatur--.” 

The sun-like-one is cut off abruptly when the Fury-like-one whirls to face the spot where Bucky is hidden in the shadows. 

The leaves around Bucky once again burst away violently, in exactly the same place Bucky had been just moments before his instincts had screamed _move_! 

“I think we should head out.” The Fury-like-one is eyeing the place where Bucky is, even at that moment, hiding. 

The sun-like-one glances over at Bucky’s hiding place too. 

For a moment, Bucky thinks that their eyes meet.

The sun-like-one gives no indication that he has seen Bucky, and the group begins to move off, back into the underbrush. 

Bucky feels powerless to do anything but follow.


	6. The Blue-Faces

Steve is distracted by the falling fruit. 

A small baboon falls quickly after the fruit, landing on the ground and begins to eat it, seemingly unconcerned by Steve’s proximity. 

“Wait, hold on a second, I’m just going to…” He tries to shout after Peggy and Brock’s retreating forms, attempting to get their attention, but he quickly gets caught up in trying to get his sketchbook out of his bag. 

“Are you what Brock was so worried about earlier?” Steve muses. 

The baboon regards him coolly, still nibbling at the fruit. 

“Peggy, Peggy come quick!” Steve stage whispers in the direction Peggy and Brock have vanished into the jungle, not wanting to disturb his new little friend. 

“Now, just hold still for a minute.” 

His pencil flies over the page, brow furrowed in concentration, as he records the baboon quickly, but with surprising detail.

After what looks to have been an hour or two of work, but was merely minutes, Steve looks up from his meticulous sketch again, needing to get a final look at the shape of the baboon’s ear, only to find the fruit abandoned. 

He feels a pressure on his shoulder and is surprised when he turns his head to find the little baboon right on his arm.

The baboon seems as though he might actually be looking at Steve’s drawing and considering it, like some sort of self-important scholar or art critic. 

“What do you think?” Steve says, holding the sketchbook away from them a little bit to find the perfect angle for viewing. 

The baboon seems to like what he sees, because he suddenly grabs the entire sketchbook and in a move too quick for Steve to stop, bounds away into the underbrush, trailing pages as he goes. 

“Well, this is just great.” Steve mutters darkly, as he follows the breadcrumb trail of pages into the jungle, all the while catching glimpses of the little thief through the vines. It really is one of his larger, nicer sketchbooks, otherwise he might not have bothered. “I came to study gorillas, and I got my sketchbook pinched by a baboon.”

_____________________________

Bucky watches as the sun-like-one moves to chase one of the blue-faces young.

He follows from a safe distance.

He notes, with a vague sense of unease as he trails the two from above, that they are getting farther from the sun-like-one's family group and very close to the blue-faces nest.

_____________________________

Finally, Steve catches up to the little monkey, who seems to actually be reveling in the portrait Steve made of him. 

He is making excited noises and clutching it close to his chest. 

“Now see here, pal. I’m gonna need that back, so on the count of three…” He scolds the little baboon, who actually does look a little repentant, but still clutches the sketch close, stubbornly.

“One, two… OH LOOK BANANAS!” He exclaims, feeling a little foolish, but surprisingly it does work, and he is able to snatch the page away as the baboon checks around him for the promised fruit. 

Steve giggles, quite pleased with himself. 

“I can’t believe you fell for that. It’s the oldest trick in the book!” 

The big old baby actually starts to cry. 

It’s almost enough to move even Steve’s cool heart, but he is determined not to give in to crocodile tears. 

“Now now, what would your parents say?” 

A menacing hiss comes from the tree directly behind Steve, making him about-face, startled. 

The entire tree is crawling with baboons, too many to count, and frighteningly, obviously, _very_ angry. 

“You see? I told you they’d be mad.” Steve asides to the baby, feeling sweat start to bead at his brow, “Go easy on him. Kids will be kids.”

He turns and runs, stumbling as he goes, terrifyingly aware of the wave of monkeys at his back; their screams, and shrieks, and howls making a hundred seem like a thousand bearing down on him.

He battles his way through the thick of the jungle vegetation. 

His lungs begin to protest almost immediately, and he knows he won’t be able to go on much longer. 

He curses his weak body but for once there’s not enough time or breath to do it soundly. 

The rabid screams are getting closer, the crashing and tearing sounds are rushing up to meet him, too close now. 

Up ahead, Steve is alarmed to see a drop of some kind, a cliff. No telling how far down it goes. He will die one way or the other, but even that thought is not fully formed before he jumps.

He senses rather than feels baboon claws swipe at his neck, a whisper away, before the wind rushes around him and he falls.

He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes, until he realizes.... He’s not… falling?

He opens them. 

He’s flying. 

“Wha--?”

And looks up...

… and, will forget to mention later when he retells the story to Peggy and Brock, screams _very_ shrilly.

He has just enough sense to feel pretty embarrassed by it immediately after, before he is distracted by the well-muscled wild man, who is holding him quite precariously as they swing through the vines.

Casual as you please. Nothing to see here.

 _I just interrupted his morning commute_. Steve thinks, feeling a little crazed.

The man is wearing a loincloth. 

And nothing else.

Steve gets an eyeful. 

The man is staring back down at Steve, with intelligent, curious eyes. 

Everything happens very quickly after that. 

In the second it takes for them to share this glance, with the wind whipping through their hair and clothes, Steve realizes that there is a pressure on his left leg. 

One of the baboons has managed to latch on to it and has begun to gnaw viciously at his, thankfully, sturdy leather boot. 

Steve gives a strangled cry and kicks out, effectively dislodging the baboon, and it falls away into the rush of the canopy below.

Unfortunately, his boot goes right along with it. 

With the lost weight of the baboon, the man uses the momentum to toss Steve almost flippantly in the air, only for him catch Steve safely in his arms moments later; cradled carefully, like something precious. 

“Put me down.” Steve manages around a lot of muscle and tanned skin, and his own gritted teeth; his hackles raised at being so casually thrown around. 

The man doesn’t seem to understand a word Steve is saying, or why he is struggling so much in his arms, but he does eventually set Steve down gently, only for Steve to immediately jump back into them when the group of baboons burst out of the branches. 

“Pick me up, pick me up!” 

Steve hates to admit it but he can’t outrun the baboons himself, and it had been made embarrassingly clear that he is not any sort of physical burden to the man, made even more abundantly clear when he is scooped up again effortlessly. 

The man jumps to evade the rabid rush of baboons, and a scream catches in Steve’s throat as they fall. He definitely won’t recount this later to Peggy or Brock, but he clings a little. 

A lot. 

They land gracefully on one of the branches below, and the man somehow, inexplicably, manages to glide on the branches. 

They sail through the trees, the baboons hot on their heels.

All of the twists and turns make Steve feel vaguely nauseous.

Suddenly, there are baboons in front of them along the branch they are gliding on. In a stroke of inspiration, Steve clambers onto the man’s back and uses the remnants of his sketchbook as a shield.

It really shouldn’t work, but somehow the hardcover provides enough of a barrier, and with both of them pushing, they bowl through the teeming mass of bodies, managing to come through unscathed on the other side. 

Steve chuckles triumphantly, feeling rather smug.

Right up until the baboon jumps on him. 

They both struggle briefly, but Steve feels himself falling. 

Luckily, it is not a long drop. They land on a branch directly beneath them, though it does knock the breath from Steve’s lungs.

He doesn’t get a chance to catch it before the entire swarm of baboons is on him. 

His screams are lost in the fray as the baboons begin to bite and scratch at him, pulling at his hair and clothes.

Thankfully, before any real damage can be done, he is swept back up into the air, and is desperately grateful that the man came back for him. 

Until he realizes that the man is holding him perilously by using his feet and toes. 

The scientist in him is fascinated, the rest of him is terrified. 

They swoop through the trees and once again Steve is thrown into the air only to be caught again securely in the man’s arms. 

The man lets out a pained grunt with the addition of Steve’s weight.

They are balanced dangerously on the rim on a giant tree trunk, the inside of which has been hollowed out by rot.

Before Steve can ask if the man is alright, the baboons are on them again.

They are surrounded. 

The man jumps and they fall through the log and slide downwards. 

As the baboons attempt to follow, they cause a split in the old wood, and with an ominous _crack_ , they tumble through the air, free-falling, baboons and all. 

Steve is screaming again. 

He’s _allowed_ , okay? 

The man does manage to quickly grab hold of some vines. He uses both his hands and his feet and brings them to a jarring halt.

Not a moment before the remnants of the giant trunk come crashing down above them. 

The man grabs Steve and hauling him close, he pushes them both up against the trunk of the tree they landed in, and safely out of the way of the falling branches.

Steve is very aware of their proximity in that moment. 

It’s hard not to be aware of the heaving body hunched protectively over him, and the intelligent, piercing blue eyes that are locked on his, widened with the same fear and adrenaline as his own, and the hot breaths exchanged between them in the too close space. 

They stay that way for a moment, even after the danger has passed.

Steve is starting to feel dizzy, or maybe he had been feeling dizzy all along, but was too preoccupied to notice until this moment. His heart is still racing, and his cheeks are flushed from exertion, and from the intensity of the man’s gaze on his face. 

For one crazy moment he doesn’t know if he will be able to stop himself from doing something completely inappropriate. 

He thinks they might kiss.

The spell is broken by a series of grunts.

The man turns, and over his shoulder Steve can see that it is one of the baboons swinging pendulum-like on a vine in front of them. The baby baboon from before is on its shoulder.

They both actually appear to be quite disgruntled. 

_Stop anthropomorphizing the monkeys_. He berates himself. 

Then the man starts to make the same grunting noises back at the larger baboon, like he’s actually _speaking_ to it. 

The man whirls around abruptly, just as Steve is thinking, _I need to get the hell out of this tree_ , and grabs what remains of the sketchbook out of Steve’s grasp, and _hands it to the baboons_. As if between all their grunting and gesturing a negotiation had just taken place. 

_You take pitiful, skinny man, we take beautiful monkey portrait_. 

Steve bites down on a hysterical giggle. 

He doesn’t stick around to see if the baboons are happy with the trade.

_____________________________

When Bucky turns after dealing with the blue-faces, the sun-like-one is gone. 

_____________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;))))))


	7. Bucky

“I am in a tree with a man that talks to monkeys!” 

If Peggy were here she would tell him to stop being so melodramatic, but he is having a _crisis_.

“Oh, this is great. This is wonderful.” He’s stuck. His body extended just between this branch and the next, even with his arms fully extended, and with a push that sends his arms briefly pinwheeling, he can’t manage to propel himself to safety. 

“This just can’t get any worse.”

It begins to rain. 

Steve hangs his head and sighs heavily, only to look up again directly into the eyes of the man from before. 

Startled, he pinwheels again, but instead of falling forwards, the man pushes Steve so that he falls back safely onto the tree behind him. 

Or at least mostly safe; he does bruise is backside pretty badly as he lands. 

Under cover of the dense branches, they are dry from the rain. 

Steve barely has a second to be grateful of that fact, because the man pushes him and then just… keeps pushing. 

Steve scuttles backwards as the man, walking strangely on his knuckles, looms over him.

Until he is _very_ close indeed. 

It is clearly meant to be a dominant display by the larger man, but Steve refuses to be intimidated. He’s dealt with meat-heads like this before. 

“Hey, you want a fight, pal?” He says, then uses his bare foot on the man’s muscled chest to try and push the man away; to try and get a little breathing room, because he needs it. The entire situation has his lungs constricting and his breath coming out just this side of panicked. 

He might as well be trying to push a brick wall. 

It’s extremely ineffectual. 

Not only that, but the man then grabs Steve’s bootless foot and begins to study it, like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. 

Steve would have found it all very strange, if he wasn’t laughing so hard. 

He’s _ticklish_ okay? So sue him. 

“No, stop that. Stop.” He says around his reluctant laughter. “That tickles.”

He’s still a little bit shaken by the whole situation, and he’s mad, and he’s just the tiniest bit scared, and he’s getting madder that he can’t seem to stop laughing, and he’s just had ENOUGH.

“That’s… stop… stop. Get off. GET. OFF.” 

He kicks out at the man, and catches him squarely in the jaw. 

The man jumps back, more startled than anything, and shakes his head, spraying water everywhere, like a confused dog. 

“Yea, that’s what you get, jerk. And there’s more where that came from too!” 

The man gets a very determined look in his eye. 

“Now you just stay on your side of the tree and I’ll stay on mine.” 

The man begins to advance on Steve once more. 

“You stay over there. I’m warning you.” 

Gaze intent, unwavering.

Intense. 

Suddenly, Steve isn’t so sure this is about intimidation tactics at all. 

“Stay.” He’s says, weakly, flushing a little bit. The man is _so close_ again. The rain is falling all around them, and the smells of the jungle are lush and vibrant, and the man’s body is radiating heat and his _eyes_. 

A shiver races up Steve’s spine. 

“Peggy won’t take kindly to you.” He says, weaker still, eyes closing, bracing for... whatever is about to happen. 

Steve feels a brush of the man’s hand on his face, cupping his cheek and jaw. The man’s hand is big and hot, and Steve can feel the callouses on his fingers, and the strength behind the touch. 

He feels himself wanting to turn into it, but is immediately confused by the feeling and reverts to his standard state of being pissed off instead of trying to puzzle out the meaning behind the impulse.

“Hey now--.” Steve sputters. 

He tries to punch him.

The man catches his wrist easily, and holds it. Gently. 

The entire thing happens so smoothly that Steve almost feels like he’s fallen into the man’s trap. 

Especially because the man just sort of... keeps holding his wrist. His grip is careful and warm, as he turns it slowly, and studies Steve’s hand. 

The moue of concentration on his mouth makes Steve ache for a pencil. 

The look on his face….

It is Peggy in her lab, a curl of hair coming out of her bun, her clever eyes squinted slightly, puzzling over a particularly fascinating specimen. 

It is Dr. Erskine’s intelligent face by lamplight late at night in the lab, working with relentless determination, to find vaccinations that will save hundreds of thousands of lives. 

There is only this, and the soothing pitter patter of rain, and the soft rumble of thunder.

Their hands come together.

A match. 

Civilizations are lost and found in that moment. 

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful as the spark of understanding in the man’s eyes, the almost triumphant flare. 

The man’s face is so open and wondering. 

He is caught in the man’s intelligent gaze, unable to look away. His mouth falls open slightly. He feels as though he is being pulled forward, towards the man, as if by magnetic sway.

They stare at each other for a moment, over their paired hands.

Steve loses track of time. 

The man’s eyes are captivating. Moments before, Steve had thought they were blue, but now they seemed to reflect the stormy gray of the sky filtered through the green leaves surrounding them on all sides. Steve wonders absently if he could mix such a color with the watercolors he’d brought with him. 

Then the man begins to lean forward. 

Slowly, his head ducked low this time, as if to make himself look smaller and less intimidating, he moves closer to Steve. 

Steve had almost forgotten how uncomfortable he had been feeling just moments before. As if he’d forgotten for a second that he was trapped high in a tree with a strange, wild man who didn’t seem to understand a word he said much less have any clue as to the rigours of social niceties, e.g. “personal space”, but now he feels his discomfort return in full force. 

“Oh, uh, okay then. Um.” He says, as the man presses his ear to Steve’s chest, resting it there. 

Steve, feeling extremely awkward, has no idea what to do with his hands, and so he sort of raises them up in a kind of, “don’t shoot,” gesture. 

_He’s listening to my heart_. Steve thinks to himself, and for some reason his heart beats just that much faster with the knowledge. 

Steve glances down briefly and catches the sight of the man’s closed eyes, his long lashes resting against his sharp cheekbones, and a little furrow between his brows as he listens. 

A long moment passes in which Steve still has no clue what to do with his damn hands, though he’s fighting hard to not do something stupid like place them on the man’s head and run his fingers through his hair. 

Steve’s heart seems to have passed muster. The man seems satisfied with whatever he has heard.

Steve makes the mistake of looking down again, and the man is looking up at Steve through his lashes with a happy smile on his face; open, a little goofy, but completely charming. 

The man reaches up and gently cups Steve’s face between both of his large rough hands, and determinedly draws Steve forward to his own muscled chest. 

_Your turn_. He seems to be saying. 

“Oh, uh, yes.” Steve says stupidly, feeling his face flush bright red, “Yes, very nice. You’ve got a nice strong heartbeat.”

Then he delicately but firmly extricates himself from the man’s grasp.

Something close to a pout forms on the man’s face, as he studies Steve’s flushed face. 

“Strong heart--beat?” 

“Yea, it’s a good thing. You’ve got a strong heart, and that means you’re heal--.” Steve says absently, beginning to look around him for a way to get out of the tree, only to whip his head around to stare at the man. 

“You-- You do speak? All this time I just thought you were this big, strong silent guy-- man, person. Why didn’t you tell me you could speak? I want to know everything about you, I’m so curious to hear--.” Steve babbles, his excitement getting the better of him as he subconsciously scoots closer to the man. 

The man presses his fingers to Steve’s mouth. 

Steve shuts up immediately. 

The man gives a pleased grunt, then presses his hands to his own chest, and says something that almost sounded like, “Buckee.” 

Steve squints at him. 

The man, more animated now, moves closer to Steve, and looking him right in the eye presses his hands once again to his chest and repeats.

“BUCK-EE.”

“Buck-y?” Steve says back, wonderingly, testing it out. 

The man, Bucky, seems very excited now. He gives a happy little jump and then gestures with his chin at Steve, as if to say, “now you.” 

“Oh my god. I get it! I see!” Steve says, getting excited himself now. 

“Oh my god. I get eet. I seee?” Bucky parrots. 

“Oh! No no. No.” Steve clears his throat a bit, “I’m Steve.” Then he gestures to Bucky to pick up the conversation. 

“Oh. No no no.” Bucky clears his throat in a perfect imitation of Steve just seconds before, “I’m Steve.” Then he also gestures to Steve, as if prompting him to continue. 

“No. Steve.” Here Steve presses his hand firmly to his own chest, then reaches over and points to the man’s chest, “Bucky.” Then, “Steve,” as he points to his own chest again, hoping that he’d gotten his point across fairly unambiguously this time. 

“Steve.” The man says decidedly, cupping Steve’s chin as he looks Steve directly in the eyes.

They are in their own small pocket of the universe. 

Steve is too relieved at finally being understood and is barely flustered at Bucky’s close proximity. 

Instead, he just answers simply and contentedly, “Yes."


	8. Others Like Me

There is still an air of warm well-being surrounding them as they look at each other, but the reality of Steve’s situation begins to creep in on him once again. 

How is he going to get out of this tree? Speaking of trees, who is this strange Bucky-person and why does he make Steve feel like he wants to climb him like one? Where are Peggy and Brock? How is he going to find them or the camp ever again? What the hell is his life?

Questions for the ages. 

The rain is starting to let up now. 

Steve is just trying to figure out how to best to broach the subject of-- to communicate in any way really with Bucky, when the sound of a gunshot cuts through the jungle. 

Bucky seems both excited and confused by the noise. He jumps up and practically runs to edge of the branch they are on. Using a vine as a precarious handhold, he swings enthusiastically out into the open space and parrots the exact sound of the gunshot back out into the cacophony of the jungle. 

Steve can’t help but gape a little bit, but recovers quickly. 

“It’s Brock.”

Bucky turns back to him eagerly. 

“Bro-ck.” 

Again, the unmistakeable retort of gunfire, straight from Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fascinating. Yes, can you to take--.” Steve begins, struggling to find the right words and gestures that will help him communicate to Bucky, “--can _you_ take _me_ there? To Brock. Over _there_? Brock? ” 

Bucky is intelligent enough, but Steve thinks it’s mostly just an overabundance of zeal and an inherent sense of curiosity and intuition that has him scoop Steve up so readily in his arms, and not an actual understanding of what Steve is trying to say. 

“Oh Jesus, can’t we just walk?” Steve says, already feeling his stomach begin to twist. 

Bucky has already jumped out into the lush green surround; then they are flying once again. 

_____________________________

 

They land close to camp. 

Well, what’s left of it at least. 

Steve might have felt upset, but he is too busy gaping. 

There is an elephant.

But even that is only part of what has rendered Steve speechless and inert.

Gorillas! 

There are four gorillas right in their camp! Doing their level best to tear it apart, but still! 

They had been searching for days, only for the gorillas to come and find them instead. 

Steve is even more shocked when Bucky runs to join the rambunctious group. 

Steve thinks what might be a young female gorilla runs to greet Bucky. They meet halfway and immediately begin to roughhouse together, rolling and tumbling playfully. 

_He’s one of them_. Steve thinks, watching fascinated as they tussle together. 

Their tumbling brings them close to where he’s standing, and Steve can tell the second that the female gorilla catches sight of him because she immediately stops playing and stares at Steve with eyes as wide as he’s sure his own are staring back at her. 

Bucky seems like he’s trying to encourage her to come closer to Steve. 

She does, but hesitantly. 

They gape at each other for a moment. 

Steve makes the mistake of stretching out his hand a little bit, then feels awkward because he doesn’t really know what he meant by it. It seems wrong to try and pet her, but silly to try and shake her hand. 

A gust of warm air on his neck derails this nonsensical thought process. Every hair on his body raises in instinctive goosebumps. 

He turns and there, directly behind him, is a large male gorilla. He is easily three times as large as Steve and about ten times more intimidating. 

“Oh God.” The words hardly escape his lips, breathless with terror, when the gorilla stands and let’s out a roar, his sharp canines bared. He beats his chest with terrible menace. 

What is it you’re supposed to do in these situations? He can’t remember if you’re supposed to make yourself look as big as possible to try and scare the animal off, or make yourself as little as possible so they don’t think you’re a threat. 

He panics and drops to the ground, covering his head. 

_Oh God ohGodohGodohGod_. 

He risks a glance upwards and the gorilla towers above him glaring down at him, one of his eyes is scarred and sightless. 

He buries his head quickly back under his arms. 

Steve has gone up against gorillas before, or rather, men who it would be an insult to gorillas everywhere to call them that. 

Let it not be said that Steve Rogers ever runs from a fight. 

This however, is no mere gorilla. 

This is the King of the Jungle. 

And his mother hadn’t raised a fool. 

He feels the gorilla lean over him and snuffle at his hair. Every muscle in his body is clenched with nervous tension, bracing for impact; for what will surely be death. His eyes are screwed shut, and his heart is beating a harsh staccato in his chest. 

He is fairly certain he has forgotten how to breath. 

The gorilla-king sniffs at his hair, then giving another loud roar, he steps over Steve’s prone form and heads back into the jungle. The rest of the gorillas follow. 

Steve lifts himself up just enough to watch, heart still hammering in his chest, as Bucky moves to follow the rest. 

He does seem reluctant to leave Steve though. He throws a glance at him over his shoulder and hesitates, before another gorilla comes and takes his arm to lead him away. 

Steve watches them disappear into the underbrush. 

Steve must be in something like shock, because he can’t seem to hear anything except for the blood rushing in his ears, but he thinks someone might be calling him. He can’t stop staring at the spot where Bucky and the gorillas disappeared, but his eyes have taken on a thousand yard, glazed quality to them. 

“Steve! Steve where are you? Steve!” He hears from very far away. 

Suddenly, Peggy is there next to him. She kneels down and puts her hands on his shoulders and shakes him gently. 

“Steve? Steve are you alright? We looked everywhere for you. Steve?” 

Brock is surveying the damage to the camp. 

“Jesus. What the hell happened here?” 

Steve can’t sit still any longer. He stands and begins to pace frenetically. He feels a restless energy humming under his skin that he assumes is the remainder of the adrenaline pumping in his veins, and it’s like all of the oxygen that had failed to reach his lungs in the past ten minutes or so has returned and Steve suddenly can’t stop the flood of exhaled air as it comes out in rapid speech. 

“Peggy! Peggy, you wouldn’t believe-- I was-- I was out walking, and there was this baby monkey. So I drew a picture. And then the baby is crying and I turn around and there’s a WHOLE ARMY of them! And then I was flying through the air. Flying. I was in. The. Air! And then we were surrounded. And Peggy, they took my boot. And I was saved. I was saved by a flying wild man in a loincloth!” 

Peggy doesn’t look like she quite knows what to say to any of that, but Steve doesn’t give her a chance anyway. 

“Oh, and there were gorillas!”

“Gorillas! Where?” Peggy seems to have decided that that is the easiest thing to comment on, and grasps onto it eagerly, “Where, Steve?” 

“Where are the gorillas?” Brock’s voice is too sharp and too loud. He is suddenly very close and grasps onto Steve’s upper arms in a way that might hurt, but Steve is starting to feel very tired and a bit dazed now, it comes out sounding more wistful than he would like.

“He left with them.”

“Who?” Again, too sharp.

“Who, Steve?” Peggy’s voice is gentle and cajoling. 

“Bucky.”

“Bucky?” Brock asks, but it comes out a sneer. 

“The ape-man.”

Brock and Peggy exchange a Look over Steve’s head. 

_____________________________

 

Bucky’s head is spinning. 

He remembers the sound of the not-gorilla, of _Steve’s_ , heartbeat, soft and fluttering like a bird's wings, and it makes his own heart race faster to think of it. 

_Steve. Steve.Stevestevestevesteve._

His heart beats in time. 

He already knows he will return. 

Nothing could stop him. 

He is pulled abruptly from his thoughts by Fury’s voice. 

“Everyone! We will avoid the strangers. Do not let them see you, and do not seek them out.” 

He has to try, even though he knows that Fury will not be swayed.

“They mean us no harm, Fury.” 

“Bucky. I don’t know them.”

“I do. I’ve spent time with them.” Bucky remembers the the scent of wet earth, and warm pink skin against his own, eyes the color of the sky glimpsed through the canopy. 

“You may be willing to risk our safety, but I’m not.” 

Someone like him. Answers to questions that have been held in the deepest part of his heart for as long as he can remember. 

Suddenly he feels like a child again, sitting on the edge of the pond, lashing out at his own reflection, and trying to cover up what he had always thought was ugly. 

“Why do you feel threatened by anyone different from you?” 

He doesn’t realize he has charged Fury until he feels his warm breath on his face as he breathes. Fury’s eyes narrow at the challenge, and he bares his teeth as he speaks deliberately. 

“Protect this family. And stay away from them.” 

How can Fury know? How can Fury possibly understand? A cool pool of water on a hot day could not feel as sweet as Steve’s palm against his; reassuring and a revelation all at once. 

Bucky glares at Fury defiantly. 

When he turns, it is not in acquiescence, but with every intention of ignoring Fury’s order as soon as he is out of his sight. 

His mother senses his anger. She tries to plead with him.

“Bucky, for once, please, just listen to Fury.” 

His mother can not soothe this away. She can no longer cradle him in her arms and tell him they are the same as long as he just closes his eyes, shuts up, and listens.

“Why didn’t you tell me there were others like me?” He doesn’t stop to see the hurt on her face. He turns and runs into the forest. 


	9. The Missing Link

On a blackboard that had somehow managed to survive the camp ransacking, Steve begins to sketch Bucky’s form. To show Peggy what he meant earlier by, “ape-man,” but also because he has been itching to draw Bucky since the moment he laid eyes on him. 

“Well he didn’t stand up on two legs. He kind of crouched down on the ground. He supported his weight on his knuckles.” He explains to Peggy as he draws. “Exactly like a gorilla. Bending his elbows out like this, and he walked, like this.” 

Steve demonstrates. Peggy joins him, and then they are both sort of gorilla-hopping around the camp for a moment. Steve feels an intense wave of affection for Peggy, because no one else would humor him quite like this. Her own inquiring mind begs her to answer life’s questions and she’s not afraid to look “foolish” while doing it. 

They do have a bit of a good-natured laugh though when they catch each other’s eye. 

“Oh, Steve. What a discovery!” Peggy says still laughing a bit, “A man with no language, and no human behavior.” 

“And absolutely no respect for personal boundaries.” Steve says, sobering. He thinks about intense blue-gray eyes, and the sound of leaves rushing by in a stream of verdant green, about tan skin and strong arms. 

He fights a blush. 

“What do you mean, Steve?” Peggy’s tone is just a little too innocent. There is a sly slant to her eyes.

He guesses he might not have been very successful. 

“He seemed confused by me. As if he’s never seen another human before.” Steve decides the best strategy is to forge ahead. He picks up the piece of chalk, so that he has a reason to turn his back to Peggy and her too knowing eyes, and starts working on the drawing again. 

“As I was saying, he seemed very curious about me. His eyes were intense and focused....” Steve sketches rapidly, but again, with attention to detail and a trained hand. The entire sketch is finished in minutes. He continues speaking as he puts the finishing touches on the eyes. “...I’ve never seen such eyes….” He goes over the lines of the irises again a little absentmindedly. 

“... Shall I leave you and the blackboard alone for a moment, Steve?” 

“Peggy.” Steve flushes, feeling caught out. 

“Miss Carter, we’re here to research gorillas!” Brock had mostly been ignoring them up until this point, preferring instead to focus on giving himself a very close shave with his machete. It seems like he had finally tuned in to what they had been talking about and didn’t like the sound of it. “We don’t have the resources or time to waste on some ridiculous flight of fancy.” He says, as he wipes the last traces of white lather off his face. 

Steve bristles.

“Bucky is not a flight of fancy. He’s--” 

In a really satisfying turn of events, Bucky drops down from the canopy above at exactly that moment.

“--real.” Steve finishes, not a little bit smug.

“Dammit!” Brock says, with some alarm. 

“Oh my.” Says Peggy, giving Bucky quite the once over. 

Brock quickly reaches for his gun and fires two successive shots at Bucky, both of which he dodges easily. 

“Calm down, Mr. Rumlow! He’s not a threat.” 

“Brock.” Bucky says, followed by the unmistakeable retort of gunfire.

“What the hell? How does he know my name?” 

“He thinks it means the sound of a gunshot.” Steve explains.

Suddenly, Bucky is standing very close to him. He reaches out and brushes some hair off Steve’s forehead and away from his eyes. His hand lingers on his face, like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to Steve’s heart rate. 

He probably doesn’t. 

“Steve.” He says. With that one simple word he manages to convey, “I found you. I’m so glad I did.” His voice is pitched low and intimate, his eyes lulling, and Steve has to forcibly remind himself that they are not alone, that Peggy and Brock are still present, watching them and this entire exchange. 

Steve is probably projecting horribly. 

“Ah, yes, hello, Bucky.” Steve feels his face heat. Bucky’s warm hand is still cupping his cheek. 

I see what you mean about those personal boundaries.” Peggy says, not quite managing to conceal her delight. 

In a flash of concentrated energy, Bucky whirls to examine Brock. He stands next to him and draws himself up on two legs. He puffs out his chest and raises his chin in clear imitation. 

“What is he doing? Stop that.” Brock says, with almost childish irritation. 

“Oh look, Steve. He moves like an ape, but he looks like a man. He could be the missing link!” Peggy looks like she’s seconds away from grabbing a pencil to take notes with, her hands flexing like she doesn’t know what to do with them without a lab at her disposal. She has that keen look in her eye like she’s considering problems that no mortal man could possibly understand. 

“Or, our link, to the gorillas.” Brock cuts in slyly. 

“Oh yes, maybe so!” Peggy seems enthusiastic, but distracted, like she is still just itching for a pencil and pad of paper, so Steve hands her his sketchbook, which she snatches gratefully and immediately begins furiously scribbing down her thoughts and ideas on. 

“This should be easy. If I can teach a parrot to sing God Bless America, I can definitely teach this savage a thing or two.” Brock brushes the portrait Steve had drawn of Bucky just moments before off the blackboard then replaces it with his own crude sketch of a gorilla.

“There. Gorilla.” 

Bucky seems interested by the blackboard. He examines it with what Steve is beginning to think of as his usual perceptive intensity, then he suddenly snatches the piece of chalk Brock used to draw with out of his hand. 

“Are you listening? Gorilla. GORILLAS. GOR-IL-LAS.” Brock yells while pointing at the chalkboard. 

“GOR-ILLA.” Bucky repeats, studying the chalk avidly. 

“He’s got it!” Brock says, seemingly excited by his success. 

Bucky just seems very excited by the idea of chalk. 

“Gorilla.” He parrots as he begins to draw frenetically and with gusto all over Brock’s rudimentary sketch.

"Gorilla. Gorilla. Gorilla!” He climbs on top of the blackboard with ease, and continues to scribble away contentedly.

Until he is rudely interrupted. 

“No!” Brock seizes the chalk from Bucky’s hand, then waves it at him almost threateningly. “No Nononono!” 

It’s useless of course. It’s like frantically waving a “stop” sign in front of a blind person. 

“No Nonononono!” Bucky shouts, snatching the chalk back, happily and enthusiastically mimicking Brock’s every word and gesture. 

“Shouting isn’t going to get you anywhere, Mr. Rumlow. He doesn’t understand English.” 

Steve notices though, with some amusement, that Bucky also seems to be mirroring Brock’s energy; puffing out his chest, and reflecting the same tone back at him. 

Brock ignores Steve and grabs the chalk back from Bucky. Bucky, having formed a special bond with the chalk, does not like this turn of events _at all_. 

It devolves from there. 

There is a brief scuffle over who should have control over the chalk. 

Which ends with Bucky having almost crawled on top of Brock, while Brock stretches at an almost impossible angle to keep the chalk as far as he can from Bucky’s determined grasp.

Fortunately, Steve can reach it just fine. He plucks the chalk from Brock’s fingers and gives them both a disappointed look. 

As Bucky doesn’t know the meaning of the word “disappointed,” Steve directs his rebuke at Brock. 

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Rumlow. I think I can take it from here.” 

Steve tells himself Bucky at least maybe looks a little ashamed of himself, but then he remembers Bucky doesn’t know the meaning of the word “ashamed,” either. 

He’s got his work cut out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue cute Bucky learns about the world montage! (Psst the secret is, Steve is his world.)


	10. The Waltz

They set up a little school room of sorts in the largest tent, where they keep most of Peggy’s scientific equipment. 

Peggy suggests they use the film projector. 

They set it up as Bucky watches, eyes wide and keen, head tilted to the side as if he’s asking a question. 

As soon as Steve lights the candle, Bucky is immediately transfixed, and then, when the image appears on the screen, he can’t seem to stop himself from moving closer, compelled to touch, to try and understand. 

The projected image is of a gorilla. 

Bucky sniffs the air, then crawls closer and brushes his hand over it. He turns back to look at Steve, his confusion clear on his face, when his hand meets nothing but the screen. 

Steve can’t keep the smile off his face. Bucky looks so perfectly confused. Steve puts another slide in, unable to communicate to Bucky but wanting to _show_ him, and Bucky immediately focuses back on the images. 

The next slide is of a muscular man in swim trunks. Like before, with Brock, Bucky imitates the same position as the man, standing tall and proud, back military straight, with his hands behind his back. 

Peggy continues to hand Steve slides, and Steve continues to place them in the projector. 

It’s a quick succession after that. 

First, a jungle scene. Once again, Bucky places his palm on the screen as if he can push his hand through into the only reality he’s ever known. Then, immediately after, a cityscape, and Bucky jumps back into a crouch, startled by the dramatic change. Then a castle, then the Sphinx of Egypt, and then the Eiffel Tower, and then and then, slide after slide, as Bucky begins to creep closer, cautiously, mesmerized; drawn like a moth to the flame, as the images light up his entire worldview. 

A slide of a train appears, and Bucky really doesn’t seem to like that, he swings his arms up in defence, almost as if he’s going to try and box this strange new beast. When the next slide comes up his hands lower slowly, absentmindedly, the image seems to have him spellbound. 

Steve pulls his eyes away from Bucky to focus on the image.

It’s of a young couple, stylishly dressed, dancing together. They smile at each other as they swirl gaily, and Steve can’t help but sigh a little at the pretty picture they make. Steve has an old photo of his parents dancing like this. The only one he has of his father, and one of the few he has of his mother. 

When Bucky has seemingly scrutinized the image enough he turns to the three of them, Brock, Peggy, and Steve, sitting behind him in chairs and holds out his hand as if wanting to try it himself, but instead of looking at Peggy with that peculiar intensity of his, he holds his hand out to Steve. 

Brock yawns. 

Peggy gives Steve a sharp nudge in the side and a wink. 

Steve blushes ten shades of crimson. 

Bucky smiles at Steve enraptured and not a bit besottedly, not that Steve notices, his eyes are set firmly on the ground as a cool dread sweeps through his stomach; he has always been a terrible dancer.

Brock, grumbling, goes to get the old phonograph they had lugged into the jungle with them. He sets it up and a very lively waltz begins to play. 

Steve takes Bucky’s hand and is immediately pulled very close to Bucky’s chest. Bucky is still not very familiar with the concept of ‘personal space,’ and Steve silently thinks it might be a bit of a lost cause from the get-go to get him _to_ understand it. 

Bucky is actually a worse dancer than Steve, which should have been hard to accomplish. 

Steve had always been passed up in the ballrooms and dance halls back in America and England, because of his, well, _everything_. His short-stature, his clumsiness, his breathing problems, to name a few, but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice any of that. 

He practically lifts Steve off his feet and twirls them around and around the tent, a bit wildly at first, pulling Steve, if possible, even closer to him. 

If Bucky is a worse dancer than Steve, then he at least improves much quicker. As Steve suspected from the intelligence in Bucky’s eyes, he seems to have a very high learning curve, and what he lacks in technique he makes up for with a fierce grace that suits him to the very core. 

Eventually, Bucky works out his own rudimentary rhythm. At one point, Steve attempts to teach Bucky the steps, but after a while gives up, and lets Bucky swirl him around the tent in his own improvised version of the waltz instead. 

At the end of the song, when the grainy phonograph comes to a halt, Steve feels winded, although not in his usual embarrassed, red-faced wheezing way, but rather a little bit giddy feeling. 

They come softly to a stop, Bucky sets Steve down gently, and cups Steve’s cheek. He gazes at Steve in way that actually maybe has Steve feeling a bit more red-faced and breathless than he’d originally thought. Bucky who had done most of the work doesn’t seem winded at all. 

Bucky’s eyes are just so honest, Steve thinks, as they look at each other, as if his eyes are telling Steve all of Bucky’s secrets, if only Steve could decipher what’s being said. 

They are a beautiful color, like a storm over the sea. Steve has already doodled them several times secretly in his sketchbook, and thinks about trying to paint them with watercolor later, although he doubts he can do them justice. 

A small cough from behind them breaks them out of their reverie.

Peggy is watching the both of them with a cat-like grin on her face, and if Steve weren’t feeling red-faced before he _definitely_ feels it now. He fidgets, feeling a bit uncomfortable under her scrutiny. 

“Well, that was quite lively, wasn’t it? But perhaps we’ll just move on to the next slide then, shall we?” She practically beams at the two of them. 

Steve squirms some more, flushing redder still. 

Bucky looks at Steve with unchecked adoration, which Steve of course does not notice, but Peggy certainly does.

Brock gives a loud snore from where he’d fallen asleep in his chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's eyes are screaming, "I LOVE YOU, YOU GORGEOUS IDIOT." If only Steve could decipher it though....
> 
> Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Thank you to everyone for being so patient and so encouraging! <3


	11. Stargazing and Other Academic Pursuits

The next night Steve and Peggy take Bucky out on a hilltop close to camp with one of Erskine’s telescopes. 

Bucky had shown a particularly keen interest in the slide showing some of the planets in the solar system. 

Peggy and Steve were doing their best to explain, well, all of it. 

The cosmos to Bucky in its entirety. 

With middling success. Not for lack of intelligence, Bucky is a quick study. It’s just -- there is _so much_. 

Bucky stands, hands loose at his sides, gazing up at the heavens in wonder. Steve can’t help but think he looks very heroic standing against the starry backdrop; profile lit by the soft glow of the moon. Then Bucky turns and cocks his head at Steve in question, “why are you looking at me and not up there?” he seems to say. His mouth pulling up around the edges and eyes burning brighter than any star in the sky, and Steve is grateful for the dark hiding his flushed skin. He feels something tug in his chest. 

He hopes he’s not having some sort of attack.

\----

The week that follows is the most fun Steve can ever remember having, especially after his mom --. Well. 

 

Bucky has a tendency to imitate Brock, very well Peggy and Steve will attest, all while Brock is completely oblivious, of course. Bucky seemed to work out pretty early on that Brock does not find flattery in Bucky’s emulation. 

Bucky follows Brock around the camp, shadowing him completely, walking the exact way that Brock does: shoulders back, chest puffed, chin high, with the particular swagger cultivated in schools like Eaton or Harvard, but always adding something extra in his own Bucky-way. A particularly clever pout of his lip, as if imitating Brock with a cigar or pipe in his mouth, or a little hitch in his step as if Brock has tripped over something because he had his nose so high in the air. 

Steve and Peggy collapse in silent giggles every time, trying to stifle their laughter in the palms of their hands so as not to alert Brock. 

Say what you will about him, but Brock does have good instincts. At times as if sensing something, Brock turns suddenly almost catching Bucky in the act. 

Bucky is as always too quick, and immediately shuffles to Brock’s blind side, or grabs a vine from above and disappears into the canopy at just the right moment. Leaving Steve and Peggy with the task of attempting to school their features to stoicism in the face of Brock’s questioning looks.

\----

They taught Bucky what “waving” meant. That it was a form of greeting. 

Bucky took to walking into camp every morning waving at everything around him: Peggy, Steve, Brock, Steve again, tent, palm tree, lawn chair, telescope…. In a way that Steve decidedly _did not_ find absolutely charming and sweet. 

Although, the knowing looks Peggy throws at him are really beginning to pile up. 

The one time Brock did manage to turn quick enough to catch Bucky in his act of imitation, Bucky jumped straight to attention and raised his hand, almost as if he were going to salute Brock, but then only raised it halfway and began to wave at Brock enthusiastically instead. 

Peggy and Steve fell all over themselves, clutching at their sides from laughter, watching as Brock, frowning, with eyebrows drawn down in confusion, hesitantly raised his hand in a partial wave of his own. 

\----

Peggy suggested they teach Bucky how to read, then looked pointedly at Steve, as if to say, “and by ‘we,’ I mean ‘you,’ of course.” 

So Steve takes Bucky into the tent they’ve made into the “schoolroom” and teaches Bucky the alphabet. 

Bucky sits way too close as Steve reads him a book where a little boy named Steve looks for his lost puppy. Bucky touches the page almost reverently whenever Steve reads his own name in the text. 

“Steve,” he says looking at Steve with wonder, broad hand gently touching the place on the page where he seems to think Steve’s name might be, and it never fails to make Steve smile. 

“Yes.” Steve says, blushing a little because Bucky has the tendency to turn his entire face towards Steve and they are very close. You’d think Steve would be used to it by now. 

Steve takes a slip of paper out of his sketchbook and writes out, “S-T-E-V-E," then reads it out loud pointing to himself as he does. Bucky grunts excitedly, and takes the pencil from Steve and attempts to copy the letters on the page under Steve’s own writing, then also points at Steve. 

It’s... good. His “s” is huge compared to the other letters, the lines in his “e’s” don’t quite join up, his “v” looks more like a “u”, but for a first attempt Steve is impressed, and he only ever wants to be encouraging in Bucky’s pursuit of knowledge. 

“Good job, Buck.” Steve says, smiling at him warmly. 

Bucky grunts excitedly again, giving Steve a grin of his own. 

“More.” He says. Steve smiles at him again.

Next, Steve writes, “B-U-C-K-Y”, on the page next to his own name. He points to the page, then points at Bucky’s chest. As usual, Bucky is quick to pick up on what Steve means. He hops up and down a bit in his seat, his arm brushing against Steve’s and grunts some more nodding his head up and down as if to say, “yes. Yes! I got it! Yes!” 

He takes the pencil from Steve once again and writes his own name underneath Steve’s original. 

Then he puts the pencil down and very seriously turns to Steve. 

They are already very close because of Bucky’s normal lack of boundaries, but now, Bucky places his hand on Steve’s shoulder and pulls him a little closer still. He maintains eye contact with Steve and places his other hand on Steve’s chest, almost as if he is attempting to listen to Steve’s heart again, but then brings his hand to his own chest, then uses the hand on Steve’s shoulder to pull them closer again. He repeats these motions several times, holding eye contact with Steve. 

Once again Steve is drawn into the unnameable color of Bucky’s eyes, everything seems to fade around them as he searches for the meaning in the intent look Bucky is giving him. 

All at once a light goes on in Steve’s brain, “together!” Steve and Bucky, “together!” 

Steve takes the pencil again and between both of their names he writes, “A-N-D.” 

“Steve and Bucky.” The paper now reads, and Steve blushes, remembering the childish scribblings of his crushes names on school notebooks. 

“Steve and Bucky.” He reads aloud, placing his hand on his own chest then Bucky’s like Bucky had done before, “Steve and Bucky.” He repeats.

Bucky goes nuts, absolutely ecstatic, he pulls Steve to his feet and they dance around the tent, once again with Bucky almost carrying Steve as they twirl, both grinning and laughing, Bucky repeating, “Steve and Bucky” almost as if it is one word all running together, “SteveandBucky. Steveandbuckysteveandbuckysteveand--.”

\----

Steve sits on a hammock a few feet away from the table where Bucky and Brock are sitting, watching as Brock tries to ask Bucky more about the gorillas. 

He brought his sketchbook and is currently caught up in another drawing of Bucky, his best one yet, he thinks happily. His sketchbook is quickly becoming full of sketches of the other man. 

Steve has the shape of Bucky’s calves down to a science, and oddly, the shape of his ears, but everything else about Bucky is so dynamic, that Steve always finds a challenge. Bucky’s hair is a constant mess, although it suits Bucky’s face. The depth of Bucky’s eyes set into his narrow face ever-dependent on the light around him; the curve of his strong back and the movement of muscles there….

Steve looks up at the other man to check that he has the angle of his jaw right, only to find Bucky is already looking at him. 

Their eyes lock. 

Bucky’s mouth is soft, giving his face a dreamy quality, almost as if he had been staring at Steve for a long time absentmindedly before Steve had looked up, but his eyes hold their usual intensity. 

The bugs hum around them in the heat of the afternoon, the sun already glinting gold off the sides of the tents. They are sliding into evening, and Steve cannot look away from Bucky’s eyes, burnished deep turquoise in the fading sunlight. 

Brock is chattering away, but growing more agitated, his voice melting into the calls of the birds and the sounds of the jungle around them, as Bucky and Steve continue to stare at each other, time stretching hot and hazy around them. 

Suddenly, Brock grabs Bucky’s chin and turns his face forcefully down, directing his gaze at the map that he has laid out on the table. 

The spell is broken. 

Steve starts and jerks his own gaze down to his sketch, feeling his face grow hot. His heartbeat racing in his chest like a moth’s wings around a lantern at night. 

_This is-- he needs to deal with this. Now-- he thinks he knows, and he needs to speak with Peggy. It’s-- it’s not fair to her_.... 

Brock’s hand remains on Bucky’s chin, but Bucky’s eyes are still free to roam, and magnetically, like a compass to true North, his eyes wander from the page to find Steve once again. 

\----

Steve is attempting to sketch again, but this time his subject is more volatile. 

It’s a small yellow bird, resting on a branch very close to him, the name of which escapes Steve, but if he could just-- get everything right, then he could take his drawing to Peggy and she would probably know the name. 

The bird is so close he can see that there is a small iridescent blue/black spot on the crown of its head, and a slight blood red around the nails on its otherwise mostly brown feet. 

He feels a presence at his back. Warm and safe, he knows that Bucky is looking over his shoulder watching as Steve’s hand flies over the page, attempting to catch every last detail.

Bucky’s presence is a little distracting. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Bucky’s mouth red and slightly open. Bucky’s breath tickles his ear and cheek, smelling sweet from whatever fruit Bucky ate for dinner today. The heat from Bucky’s skin as he curves himself over Steve’s back has Steve feeling a little lightheaded. Steve feels a bead of sweat on the back of his neck drop heavily down into the collar of his shirt and slide down his spine. 

Bucky places one of his big beautiful hands on the small of Steve’s back, and Steve nearly comes out of his skin. 

He jumps, startled.

The bird, not appreciating their abysmal attempt at flirtation, flits away into the growing dusk. 

Steve curses, and then looks at his half-finished sketch dejectedly. 

Bucky, seeing the look on Steve’s face, thinks he knows exactly what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience everyone! <3 


End file.
